


Can I beat within your heart?

by HistoriaGloria



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, But also I wrote with Zolf/Hamid in mind, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, can be read as platonic, what is a timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: Cornered and low on spells and options, Hamid, Zolf and Sasha struggle to get out of a sticky situation. It has all being going so poorly...
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Can I beat within your heart?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



> I'm absorbing Rusty Quill Gaming with such speed, it's so good! At ep 108, so no spoilers please. And yes, Zolf has been gone for a while but I still love him okay.   
> Thank you so much to Kristsune who encourages and enables me all the time. It's really appreciated!
> 
> Title is from My Friends by Oh Wonder:  
> "Oh my friends  
> I am heavy  
> Can I beat within your heart?  
> Can I bleed within your love?  
> Oh my friends."

Hamid is struggling. Cornered without Bertie, Sasha, Zolf and himself are formidable but they are squisher. The creatures which they have come across are small and vicious, some kind of fey? Small fiend? But, there are so many of them and Hamid can barely get his spells off.

Magic Missile is less than helpful with its ability to only catch a couple of targets and he doesn’t know any spells with a large area of affect. Sasha has been able to take out a few swathes with her bombs, but Zolf and Hamid are struggling. They’re basically overrun and Hamid is out of spells. Eyes narrowed, the halfling struggles to slip out, loading his crossbow. One of the creatures swipes out at him, dragging its claws across his chest, which is more painful than Hamid had expected.

“Hamid, you alright?” Sasha calls from a few feet away, her daggers clutched tightly in her hands.

“M’fine!” he yelps back but the colours of the world are starting swim through the pain. Sasha nods, more concerned with swiping at these things. Returning to fighting with his crossbow, Hamid fires off a shot, catching one of the impish creatures but there are always more to fill in.

“You got any more bombs, Sasha?” Zolf grunts, thrusting his trident forward desperately.

“No,” is all Sasha manages to reply before she is distracted by several of the creatures. Hamid panics, firing bolts desperately into the fray in an attempt to help.

“Where’s Bertie when you need him?” he manages to say, shrilly but neither Sasha nor Zolf reply. They are making headway; the creatures are not difficult to kill, there are just a lot. Hamid has managed to sequester himself away in a nook as he fires his crossbow, but the wound on his chest is bleeding heavily. The world really doesn’t want to stay in focus.

“Ngk!” He hears Sasha cry out as a couple of the creatures slam into her. Spinning, Hamid fires helplessly at them but his aim is off, and the bolts don’t impact. Across the battlefield, he hears Zolf curse and then watches as the cleric hobbles quickly across to Sasha. She is looking woozy, rocking back and forth on her heels. Hamid refocuses his fire, trying to cover them both as Zolf heals her with a quick tap.

“That’s me done, no more magic,” he grunts, just loud enough for Hamid to catch it. The halfling winces. He could have done with the deep gash through his chest dealing with, but Sasha is more important than him anyway. Especially now he is out of spells. At least Sasha and Zolf are okay. Besides, Zolf wouldn’t have been able to get to him quickly anyway, not hidden away in this corner he has found. Seeing that his friends are okay, Hamid attacks with renewed vigour, drawing the ire of a good amount of these creatures. As a small horde comes flying at him, Hamid grits his teeth, managing to pick off several smaller creatures. But there is just too many of them and Hamid has nowhere to go. A few of the creatures land hard on his chest and the halfling can barely manage a strangled yelp before they begin to attack him.

White hot pain flashes through him and the world swims, before going completely black…

* * *

Zolf grunts, leaning heavily on his trident. The battle had been harder than they had expected, especially after a long day. He is completely spent for spells and magical usefulness, but they’ve made it through. Sasha is rifling through the bodies of these creatures, searching for anything of use as Zolf cleans some of the gore off of his trident.

“Alright?” Zolf calls, looking up. Sasha hums in agreement.

But that’s it.

Hamid doesn’t reply. The dwarf’s eyes narrow and he glances around.

“Hamid?” he calls, not able to see the halfling from where he is, and the lack of a response begins to worry him. Hobbling around a corner, Zolf’s heart plummets.

There is Hamid, bloody and limp on the floor. His chest is torn open and his eyes are closed, blood dripping slowly from the wounds.

“Hamid!” Zolf is moving before he can even really think about it, cursing the slowness of his leg but he gets there. Hand over his chest, the cleric desperately checks for a pulse, for any sign of life.

It’s there, but its fading fast and _Zolf has nothing left_. No spells, no divine magic, nothing. He collapses roughly to his knees, drawing Hamid to his chest.

“No, no, no…” he mutters, feeling the panic rising up in his throat. Hamid is _too good, too kind, too fucking young_ for this. Zolf can feel the tears in his eyes already, but he just drags the halfling closer. There’s not enough time to get him to a temple which could heal him, and Zolf has no way to stop the blood which continues to seep from the deep wounds on his chest. This is supposed to be his _job;_ he’s supposed to make sure that no one gets hurt and he can’t even do that.

“Poseidon, please,” he manages to say, barely whispered as the tears start to fall. “Take me, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything, alright! You just have to save him.” Zolf doesn’t really care that he’s begging at this point. He just wants Hamid to be okay. He just wants their squishy little sorcerer to open his eyes, for his skin to not look so ashen.

There are footsteps behind him, and he twists to see Sasha coming over at a run, realising that something is wrong.

“Zolf, what’s going – oh.” She stops, the meagre loot she had managed to scavenge falling limply out of her hands.

“Do you have a potion?” Zolf snaps roughly, unable to summon up any kind of nicety here.

“What?”

“A healing potion, Sasha!” he practically yells, arms still tight around Hamid’s limp form.

She shakes her head and Zolf feels his gut twist violently. He turns back to look at the halfling, his head lolling back. And Zolf feels such _despair_. He can’t do anything, can’t help, can’t heal, can’t fix this and Hamid is _going to die_.

Hamid is going to die, here, in his arms, because he _failed him._

The anguished sob rips itself from his chest before he can stop it. Head bowing, Zolf’s shoulders heave as he tries to force down the outpouring of grief, unsuccessfully. There is a hand on his shoulder, Sasha’s, but he can feel her trembling as the enormity of this begins to weigh on her too. A sidelong glance up at her shows Zolf everything he needs to know. She is crying, silently, her eyes fixed on the limp form of Hamid in his arms.

It doesn’t matter that they haven’t know each other for very long. Zolf cares about them both so much, cares about keeping them safe. They just have each other right now and that being ripped away hurts so much.

Without really focusing on it, he begins to pray again.

“Oh, Lord Poseidon, please. I swear, I’ll do anything. I swear I’ll do anything. You have to help me …” You have to save him! I, we need him! Please… please.” He drifts into a litany of that last word, over and over, begging for support from his god.

“ _Please.”_ Sasha’s hand on his shoulder tightens but she doesn’t say anything.

“ ** _Please._** ”

Then something changes.

Zolf hears the crash of waves for just a moment in his ears, the smell of saltwater, the taste of brine on his tongue.

In his arms, Hamid shudders and inhales, coughing weakly.

“ _Hamid_ ,” he breathes, and he hears Sasha’s breath stutter behind him. The halfling’s wounds aren’t completely healed, but he doesn’t appear to be losing any more blood. He gives a weak moan of pain and his eyes flutter open.

“Zolf?” The halfling’s voice is so small. All Zolf can do is nod in response, unable to fight the roiling emotions within him enough to actually speak. Hamid reaches up one blood-covered hand to brush away the tears on Zolf’s cheek.

“Why are you crying, Zolf? We did okay, right? Sasha?”

“You _idiot_ ,” Zolf breathes, unable to say anything else. He is perilously close to crying some more. Behind him, he can hear Sasha sniffling quietly as she lets his shoulder go. Hamid’s face twists in confusion and then relaxes into a weak, lazy smile.

“We did okay,” he says again, his hand still pressed against the cleric’s cheek. “You’re here, ‘n’ we’re all safe…” His words are slurred by pain and exhaustion, his deep brown eyes half-lidded. “Safe…” is the last thing he whispers before his breathing evens out into sleep, his hand slipping down.

Zolf bows his head, choking back the emotions he felt.

“God, you’re such an idiot,” he mutters fondly down at Hamid as he extracts a hand to wipe his tears away. It comes back bloody, Hamid’s blood smeared over his cheek by his own hand. “We, uh, we should get him to a temple. Somewhere that can heal him,” the cleric manages to mutter, more to himself than anything. But Sasha responds,

“You, uh, you need me to carry him?” she mutters. Zolf just nods, letting her gently extract Hamid from his grip as he forces himself unsteadily upright.

“This way,” he mutters, heading off in the direction of the nearest temple.

* * *

Zolf refuses to leave Hamid’s side. The clerics at the temple heal his wounds and settle him into a small bed so that he can sleep off the worst of it. They assure Zolf that he’s going to be okay, that he’ll wake in the morning with little more than a scar.

But Zolf won’t leave.

He sends Sasha to go find Bertie and she seems more than happy to not sit awkwardly in a room with him in silent vigil. They agree to meet up in the morning at the steps of the temple, but until then, Zolf settles himself into the most uncomfortable chair he thinks he has ever sat in and waits.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep and he makes it into the small hours of the morning before eventually exhaustion overtakes him. But Zolf is awoken from a nightmare brewing by movement beside him. It’s early morning, just after sunrise and Hamid is awake, shifting slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Zolf says gruffly and the halfling jumps a little, looking over at him.

“Better,” he admits, hand gently tracing the new scars on his chest. “Going to call me an idiot again?” Hamid is smiling, just a little.

“Idiot,” Zolf deadpans, but they’re both smiling now. “But seriously, what were you thinking, Hamid? You nearly died.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I just… I got cornered and I knew you had no spells left and… yeah.”

“You almost _died._ I was, we were so worried. You need to be more careful,” Zolf is trying to school his voice into berating but honestly, he is so glad to see Hamid moving and lucid again that he can’t. The halfling nods, a sad little smile on his face.

“I will be,” he replies softly. He just stares up at the cleric, his face so open, so trusting. Like even though this happened, he is still ready to put his life in Zolf’s hands once more.

“You should, you should get some more rest too. It’s early and you need it,” Zolf says gruffly, feeling his cheeks grow warm as Hamid holds eye contact.

“Okay, Zolf,” his voice is sotto voce, but he nods. “Also, you’ve still got a little…” Hamid reaches up, not even using prestidigitation to gently rub the last of the blood from the dwarf’s cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Good, goodnight, Hamid,” Zolf manages to grunt out as the halfling settles back down into sleep and he is left with the lingering feeling of Hamid’s touch against his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and bother me on tumblr or twitter, HistoriaGloria!


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